


A Little Too Late

by CharbroilLaFlamme



Series: Bioshock: Measurement of A Father [18]
Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, BioShock References, BioShock Spoilers, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Guilt, Rapture (BioShock)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 20:03:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15781125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharbroilLaFlamme/pseuds/CharbroilLaFlamme
Summary: Stanley manages to get to the orphanage to attempt retrieval of Eleanor. Things do not go as intended and Stanley has a moment of sort-of clarity.





	A Little Too Late

For Stanley, it all turned into one big blur of terror and hopelessness.

Eleanor had been taken already.

He looked up to Grace, the woman had gone silent, tears brimming in her eyes.

Stanley felt something settle all too heavily in him. He didn’t bank on Grace _crying_ —maybe lashing out at the Orphanage, maybe even exploding on him—not _crying_.

But there she was, mourning. Something about it made Stanley feel awful...

She wasn’t melodramatic about it, either. She didn’t fall to her knees, she didn’t cling to the waistcoat of the clerk and demand answers. She just seemed to slacken, and resign herself.

Stanley reached a hand out to her shoulder, but the terror began to swallow him as he did, and he pulled his hand back.

Everything about this situation spelled bad for Stanley.

His meticulously thought-out plan falling apart faster than he had anticipated.

But the panic had yet to fully set in. The great weight in him had yet to dissipate. He could only stand and attempt to console Grace.

Words dissolved on his tongue. He couldn’t seem to figure out how to speak to Grace in her state. Perhaps, he could attempt to.

But she really wasn’t an easy woman to speak to, even with her bountiful kindness and bleeding heart...

Stanley couldn’t handle the saccharine side of Lamb’s faithful followers. The butterfly infestations, metaphors, unity, the talk of family and the like.

However, he was stuck with it, and had to fly with the flock if he hoped to not get nabbed for his treachery.

They had since left the orphanage’s front desk. Grace stormed out and Stanley followed.

“ _Gracie?_ ” He said. “Maybe we could explain there was a mistake, work out a deal?” He smiled, infusing just the right amount of sensitivity into his voice. Or he tried.

“You know, I trusted miss Lamb with my life, and she trusted me with her daughter’s life. Lamb taught me that people deserve another chance.” Grace said. “But I find it hard to believe you’re doing this for anyone but yourself.”

“I didn’t think she’d be gone, Grace.” Stanley replied. “I didn’t. It isn’t like I did this.”

“I beg to differ, Stanley.” She said pointedly, her tone was a threatening sort of coo—like she was trying to embody Lamb’s all-loving nature while at the same time cursing him.

Stanley flinched. “Grace, please—this is hard enough as it is.”

“You _hated_ looking after her,” Grace stated. “You hated _her_.”

Stanley cowered before Grace, well-prepared to say whatever he had to—if only to sway Grace.

“I didn’t hate her, Grace,” Stanley lied—but felt as if what he was saying was coming from some strange place of authenticity. “I... just didn’t know how to handle her. But _you_ did, _you_ made her smile. _I_ didn’t.” Stanley said sadly, “I think... I mighta been _jealous_ , y’know?” His laugh was disjointed, awkward, _transparent_.

Grace looked at him differently after his rather unexpected admittance, even Stanley himself was surprised.

He found himself slumping, “and I wish I could have stopped it from happening.”

Grace had seemed a little bit swayed for a moment, prompting Stanley to hold his breath.

Grace spoke again in her most serene manner, in such a way that it may have even scared Stanley. “Stanley, I don’t know what part’s true, and what isn’t.” She admitted with a sincere smile, peaceful and placid. “And I don’t know if you loved that baby girl, or hoped for her to get snatched up in the night.”

“Gracie...” Stanley started to say something.

“But maybe it’s better that I don’t know, Stanley.“ she said softly. “Wherever she is, I’m sure she’s better off without you in her life. Your debts, your pipe dreams. You used to be better.”

“Rapture’s not meant for better people,” he wrung his hands under Grace’s supervision, “I’m just a sorry, sad excuse for a reporter, Grace.” He breathed uneasily, looking at his hands intently, “I _know_ I’m an awful man, you don’t need to remind me. In the end, all you are is you. And everyone makes you out as someone different. So maybe I _did_ hate Eleanor, but maybe I _didn’t_...” he mumbled.

Grace had been listening raptly to Stanley.

Much to his surprise, she hadn’t said a word since he’d started.

He was shocked at himself, spilling feelings out like a leaky pipe in front of Grace. If she was one thing, she was a _great_ listener...

“It seems so easy to disregard kids once they’re gone. ‘Cause, I mean, you’re _free_. They’re not attached to you twenty-four-seven. But your brain works weirdly—suddenly you can’t stop thinking about ‘em.”

Stanley knew there was a fine line between being convincing and too goddamn _honest_.

 _Perhaps, Stanley... that’s enough_.

He knew now, the importance—the urgency—of fixing what he’d broken.

He wasn’t ready to die yet. And he had hoped this was enough to keep Grace from wising up. He still had time. Plenty, in fact, before his plan could completely shatter.

”I’m sorry, Gracie,” he said sombrely, “and if anyone’s gonna fix it... it’ll have to be me.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Notes!:
> 
> — Stanley remains manipulating Grace’s feelings, but a lot of what he is saying is genuine, some part of him did care for Eleanor.


End file.
